"Thought conquers matter, as Plauto--I should say as Platus very rightly
obesrved."
"Quite so," assented the Prophet, trying to live up to the library, but
scarcely succeeding.
"Even in the days of the great Juvenile," proceeded Madame, "to whose
satires I owe much"--here she laid a loving hand upon Vol. 2 of the
"Library of Famous Literature."--"Long ere the days when Lord Lytton and
his Caxtons introduced us to the blessings of the printing press there
were doubtless ladies who, like myself, could forget the treachery and
the lies of men in silent communion with the brains of the departed. Far
better to be Milton's 'Il Penserosero' than Lord Byron's 'L'Allegra!'"
To this pronounciamento, which was interrupted several times by more
alarming contortions of the brain-worker's face, the Prophet replied
with a vague affirmative, while Mr. Sagittarius whispered,--
"Her whole knowledge, sir, comes straight from there"--pointing towards
the dwarf bookcase. "She brought it on the instalment system. Dr. Carter
has made her what she is! That man, sir, deserves to be canonised. Eight
guineas and a half, sir, and such a result!"
"Such a result!" the Prophet whispered back.
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